


Sanctuaries

by peridium



Category: Bandom RPF, Mindless Self Indulgence, My Chemical Romance
Genre: 1000-3000 words, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-24
Updated: 2009-12-24
Packaged: 2017-10-05 04:17:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/37734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peridium/pseuds/peridium
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gerard is maybe a little bit obsessed with the way Lindsey looks after she does a show, all glistening with sweat, long black hair plastered to and making patterns on her cheeks and forehead.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sanctuaries

Outside, the drone and hum of post-concert activity is starting to fade away. Gerard does everything he can not to be too visible after Mindless Self Indulgence has played. It's not that he doesn't like meeting fans; it's that his fans aren't supposed to be here at all. There are a few laughing voices, and he can just make out a few footsteps, but for the most part it's quiet, and he knows he can anticipate seeing his wife soon.

Gerard is maybe a little bit obsessed with the way Lindsey looks after she does a show, all glistening with sweat, long black hair plastered to and making patterns on her cheeks and forehead. He's seen her this way so many times now he's starting to lose count, but it doesn't get any less interesting to him. Some shows are better than others, but he always finds something to fixate on, a trail of sweat down her jaw or ballpoint pen residue under her fingernails.

"Hey," she says, grinning, a little bit of stage swagger still in her hips as she saunters up to him with the door swinging shut behind her. He's cross-legged on the floor of the bus, the mug of cold coffee by his elbow keeping the miniature pyramid of cigarette butts company. The sketchbook has been in his lap since he escaped here to wait for her, but he still only has the bare bones of an outline.

Gerard can feel his lips quirking into a smile, the kind of response he doesn't even have to think about. "Hey, you were fucking amazing." Sometimes he still feels shy around her, and that's part of what he likes about this.

"Duh," Lindsey drawls, wasting no time in draping herself across his lap and dislodging his sketchbook. Her foot just barely misses the coffee as she moves, but he's pretty sure she did that on purpose.

"Duh," he repeats in admission of the _duh_-ness of it. "Just wanted to tell you."

Grin still in place, she shifts to pick up his sketchbook with one hand. He notes that she still has a capless Sharpie in the other. "So what the fuck is this, like, _another_ zombie apocalypse vampire love story?" she asks before she glances at the page. It isn't really _anything_ yet, just rough lines that might eventually come together to form some kind of creature.

"I don't know," he says, honestly. His chin is digging into her shoulder, but she doesn't seem to mind. "I mean, I know it'll turn into something. Usually these things do. But I don't know yet."

"Uh-huh." She's not paying attention. Maybe he would be offended, but she's turning pages in his sketchbook and getting Sharpie from her callused fingertips onto the edges of the pages, and he forgets why he should be.

"You're so fucking good at this," Lindsey says finally, as if she hasn't flattered him a thousand times before. "Like, Gerard, seriously, you are."

Instead of answering, Gerard presses his face into her shoulder -- her jacket smells like shampoo and smoke. She always claims his nose is too pointy and tells him not to do it, but he ignores her.

He can feel her laugh vibrating through his cheekbones. She shifts, hooking her arm around his shoulders with the sketchbook still in her other hand. "Asshole, fucking stop that and agree with me."

"No," he protests, but he can't resist glancing up at her, meeting her gaze and grinning. "Uh, not that I'm not glad you think my art isn't too shitty, though."

"It's fucking awesome." Gerard had almost forgotten about the pen in her hand, but Lindsey has dropped his sketchbook again and she's reaching to pull the hair back from his neck. He's distracted enough by her fingers running through his hair and wondering if maybe he should compromise his principles and _wash_ his hair later that he doesn't notice she's drawing something on the nape of his neck until she's halfway through the second intricate spiral.

He doesn't want to fuck up whatever she's doing, but he can't keep from squirming and laughing under his breath. "The fuck are you doing?"

"Drawing," she says as if he can't tell, now partly through something that _feels_ like the outline of a bat. "Fuck, I wish you could get tattoos, like -- imagine all the amazing shit you could design for yourself." Her breath is warm against his skin, easing the tickle of the pen.

"Yeah," Gerard has to concede a little, "I guess I've thought about it, but I really can't -- "

"What the fuck ever." She doesn't mean it, he can tell in the laugh and the brush of her lips against his ear as she pulls back to survey whatever she's done. "That looks pretty good, actually. I'm gonna make people think you have tattoos, like, I'll cover you in my art all the time and everyone will think, what the fuck, he had a really sudden change of heart."

"I don't know if I trust you," he says dubiously. "What did you -- "

Lindsey cuts him off again, this time by sinking her teeth gently into his neck a few centimeters below his ear. "It's gorgeous," she tells him in her firmest voice, and then she's tugging the back of his T-shirt down before he can argue any more. "One more thing." Her voice drops to an exaggerated whisper and the flourishes of her Sharpie are fittingly dramatic: "Gerard Way, property of his number one fan…"

Fuck, she _still_ does things to him. A telltale heat is creeping into his cheeks, offsetting his grin. "Number one fan, really?"

"Mmhmm." Lindsey swings around to face him again, the tip of her nose brushing the tip of his. "No teenager has anything on me."

Gerard grins again. "I fucking love you."

She doesn't answer, but he's okay with taking the decisive kiss she presses to his lips instead. "You're designing my next tattoo," she tells the corner of his mouth; Gerard nods instead of speaking, and she kisses him again.


End file.
